


Onyx

by moonofmorrigan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Asian Inspired, Celtic Inspired, Concubines, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:44:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonofmorrigan/pseuds/moonofmorrigan
Summary: When the son of a young warlord inherits his father's lands at a young age plays for power become all the intrigue. Arranged marriages and political intrigue fill the walls of the young man. As he matures he shows he knows more about these matters than he realizes, until ultimately he is given the gift of a woman from his people's mortal enemies, the Simili. She opens him up not only to new pleasures, but new political ideals. Until finally a showdown must occur, and the warlord must fight not for his position, but for his very land from the Simili themselves.





	1. Chapter 1

**_**Onyx** _ **

**_**_By Autumn M. Miller_ ** _ **

**_**_(MoonofMorrigan)_ ** _ **

 

 

The sun was setting over the waters as he looked on.  A child-like gleam in his eyes.  But he was still a child wasn't he?  14 and still growing.  He was tall and mature looking for his age however.  He often was mistaken to be older than his years to those who first met him.  He had the usual features of the Carathans, hair black as ebony wood, skin the color of the sunset just before it slips below the horizon.  The extension, grace and purposeful gait that would make a simple reach for an eating utensil seem as practiced and carefully executed as the most complicated dancer's routine.  His eyes, like the rest of his people, stood out in stark contrast to his tanned skin and dark hair.  The almond shaped framed eyes that were the color of forget-me-nots.  He would have preferred his mother's purplish cornflower eyes, for she was indeed beautiful, as were his memories of her.  He would have liked the difference in his traditional appearance, but he had inherited his father's eyes.  He reasoned to comfort himself, it was better to be ordinary looking rather than too eccentric looking.

 

He looked up at the golden and pink sky as a flock of birds flew overhead.  "How I long for your freedom...," he whispered with lips pink as cherry blossoms.

 

In contemplation he watched them as his fingers absently toyed with the blades of grass beneath him, fingertips brushing on the petals of a patch of Lobelia.  The roar of the waterfall closely situated near his calm waters drown out any reply the birds would have made.

 

Tonight he had a feeling that his fate for many years would be sealed.  He was the child of a brilliant warlord and a noble-bred mother.  There was no way he could have any decision in his future until he was older, even then he would have little say in some affairs.  He belonged to his people first.  His family second.  His own self importance and desires were last of all.  His father was ill, and his mother was sent back to the land of her fathers to prepare for her husband's death.  The tradition of the Carathans- always the tradition.  He grew weary of it.  He always wondered that if he was weary of it now, how did his father feel now at the age of 59?  His mother had left 2 years ago, and he had not seen her since.  He knew the advisers would want to keep her away so she would not have any say in her son's affairs.  They were free to manipulate, argue over and finally orchestrate his life at will.

 

He was left, in the meantime, to his thoughts and studies.  He was prepared, he was sure, for his father's death.  His father had never exactly taken much interest in him until he was 11.  It was only when they brought his father home from battle on a bamboo stretcher, bloodied and battle worn, his armor nearly shattered to pieces by swords and spears, when he knew that his father was aware of his presence in the grand scheme of life.  His father called him to his bedside, forced his innocent child eyes to look upon the reality of war and political intrigue in the face, and told him he would die.  His father knew this long before the doctor said so.  His father promised him that he would hang on as long as he could for his sake.  The lord knew without his presence his tender son will be at risk, or at best used as a pawn for the strongest and most ambitious of his court.  He had last seen his father 2 weeks ago.  His father told him that within a month he knew he will die.  The pain had become too great, the endurance to hang on too weak.  His time was fast approaching and soon he will walk in the golden and blood-red halls of The Dragon.

 

He knew it was possible that he may suffer a similar fate as his father.  He was not an emperor - he had no choice but to do battle.  When his father died the land would be his.  He was not ready for this, he knew.  His responsibility to make sure grain was available to keep his people fed, the wells not dry to keep them and the animals watered.  He would have to lead the people and inspire them.  His people to manipulate and control as some would see it.  Yes, his lands, his lands to defend - the hardest job of all.  They were vast, stretching all the way to The White Sea.  Green and fertile; many wanted his  lands.  He was no fool and did not enjoy his title.  It insured him to always have enough to wear and eat.  But it was also a cage filled with lovely things and sealed in loneliness, mistrust and intrigue - lined with disputes and war.

 

The beauty and serenity of the area he was now in, watching longingly at the freedom of the birds to fly where they pleased, the scent of the flowers and flowing calm water around him seemed ironic.  Today he knew the talks that had been in the works since his father's injury would end, and the beginning be sealed.  All starting with a union - a bride, as a seal of alliance, would be chosen and the game these counselors and advisers would play with his life would begin.   He looked down at the Lobelia petals gently held between his fingertips, and felt a searing pain in his heart that forced him to pluck the flower and crush the petals in his fist as his hand went to his heart.  His father was dead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"The boy has no choice. This is the only one suitable - unless you prefer to make a deal with the Shili." growled a dark cloaked adviser to the acting Regent.

 

"He is only 14! If he were but 2 years older I would have no objections.  But the fact is, none of us would even marry our daughters at that age, yet this boy is to be so if you have your way.   He can barely lift a broad sword, let alone know what to do with a woman.  Do you really believe his father...", the Regent argued back as calmly as he could.  This discussion had been going back and forth for hours now.

 

"His father approved the decision." replied another adviser quietly in the back.

 

The Regent closed his eyes and turned away for a moment before speaking, "I highly doubt that he had a woman old enough to be his mother in mind..."

 

"Your lordship, we 'need' this alliance.  Our soldiers, well trained that they are, are not experienced in the art of battle on the seas.  The Rosalim have ships plenty and generals that can secure our trading borders to the east."  The first lord who had spoken paused, hoping finally the Regent would listen, "You know as well as I that if the trade posts from the sea are taken, we might as well hand our territories to our enemies.  They are coming by the sea now your lordship... we have to do something."

 

The second one pleading the case took over, seeing another objection beginning to ferment on the Regent's lips, "I want to assure you, your objections and concerns are being considered as well your lordship.  He can marry her, and the marriage bed shall remain empty until the young master himself calls for her.  Surly, that will be reasonable?"

 

"With a wife as old as this, do you really believe she can tempt him once he is of an age to even want to bed her?  It is possible it may only be 2 years - but it could be ten.  Or possibly never.  Also, have you not also considered both of the personal views on this?  Would any of you take a wife nearly 12 years your senior?  She... he will be nothing more than a child to her.  He will have to father a child before he even reaches his 18th birth year, and by that time it will become much more difficult for her to bear a child."

 

A counselor who had remained silent for quite some time now finally spoke, "I have no doubt she will tempt him - she is most beautiful. What woman in her most prominent    breeding years wouldn't want a such a young lover?  I'm sure most of our own wives wouldn't object.  I know we wouldn't object to such a young lover if it was a woman." even the Regent had to snicker at that one, "Besides, she is full of life and energy.  Perhaps she will inspire him to look beyond his books and gardens."

The Regent walked to a window seeing a maidservant running at top speed towards them, and sighed in resignation, "So be it, but we will make it clear that he will have the choice to divorce her and take a younger wife for the sake of siring sons, but she can remain here if she desires.  I just really do not believe this will work."

 

His breath caught in his throat as he seen a black candle being placed in the window.  He knew before the maidservant burst in declaring it, that his long time friend and lord had past and was in the arms of The Dragon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our lord has grown, and a wife has been chosen...

****Chapter Two** **

 

Many took the marriage alliance as an omen. Some of good fortune to come, but the older, wiser ones took it as a sign of black days coming forth.  The death of a respected lord and an engagement in the same month seemed to provide a dark, suspicious hand to grasp their hearts.  What joy could come from a marriage that was secured on the death date of the man's father?  Some formerly supporting the match began to speak out against it, but it was too late.  The lady was sent for. She would arrive by the sea and the blue caravan trail with in 2 months.

 

Nonetheless, the leis and flowers were ordered, the seamstresses sewed, the silks were drawn out and hung in preparation for the lady’s arrival. Then finally, on a hot summer afternoon,  he was seated on his ceremonial  mahogany wood chair, the cushion he sat on trimmed in gold silk threaded fabric  decorated with flowers and clouds styled by his native artisans, waiting for the blue caravan. He was arrayed in the traditional royal blue and gold clothing to greet a potential bride. She, of course, would be arrayed in white and silver as was customary. He could almost guess what her gown, jewels and other adornments would look like before she arrived.

 

She wasn’t supposed to retain anything from her previous life to greet him. All of it was to be sent for and stored in her rooms, not to be worn or even looked at until after their marriage.  The cicadas chirped, the occasional cough was heard, the impatient whisper of a child who had been forced to sit too long seemed to echo in the silence.

 

His long hair flowed about his shoulders and made his neck sweaty as he waited patiently with his counselors and members of his court. His long sleeved tunic was becoming incredibly hot, the dark colors attracting the heat, rather than deflecting it. He clenched and unclenched his hands. Outside the gates he could hear the impatient murmur of the peasant classes. He did his best not to squirm or even move at all as the minutes, that seemed like hours, ticked by. Finally, after he was ready to call the court back in, and tell his “advisers” where they could stick the ceremony, a distant cheering was heard which steadily became louder and closer.  Then after a few more minutes, the gates opened. The richly adorned blue caravan rolled in, the horses gleaming with perspiration and breathing heavily from weariness. They came to a stop in front of the blue rug that was laid out down the middle of the path which was lined with potted plants, bursting with white and gold blossoms.

 

After the small puffs of dust cleared,  the footman swung down from the back with a step stool made of Lebanon wood, and opened the door. A small, delicate foot preceded the rest of a white and silver clad, small figure, who finally, upon descending the caravan coach, looked up with well taught poise and posture upon the assembly. She exhumed an air of importance and in fact, snobbish-ness, that immediately, made him dislike her. It was too much like some of his counselors, too much like a world he did not enjoy. But he held his composure and tried to focus on the delicate, painted face. Her lips were full and painted blood red (as was custom), her eyes were a rich, ebony wood brown, and her hair was black as obsidian.  All the marks of a great beauty were present, save the air of over-importance that turned him off. She walked with a grace and dignity familiar in many of the ladies of the court.  In short, she was beautiful but wholly uninteresting in his opinion. She was also, in his opinion, too old for him, and it showed. She was very young looking, but her lines were matured. Not still softened with youth. He really did not find this to be too much of a problem, had the air of her personage not been so, self-absorbed.

As she made her way up the blue carpet, she eyed everyone about her with that air in which made distaste flow in his veins. When she reached him she curtsyed and then stood, perfectly posed in front of him as a man rushed forward, the ambassador from her court, and his own who had promoted the match took her sides.

“May we present her ladyship Kay-Lin. First born daughter of his lordship Tramen, son of Lai-chi and ruler of the lands Rosala,” they chanted in unison.

She made another perfect curtsy and held out a hand where a heavily adorned, and chunky ring set with a blue stone in the middle lay on her hand. __Of course, they had to provide her with an engagement ring as a promise. Could they have not picked a more delicate setting than this thing?__ He stood, and bowed, taking her hand, and kissing it politely.

When he straightened he spoke nonchalantly, “I welcome you Kay-Lin.  My home is yours.” He swept a hand to his residence behind him.

She smiled, a small smile reserved for practiced situations and awkward ones, “I did not expect one so young to be so handsome and… developed,” It was said in a sultry voice, meant to cause the reaction it did among his people and her own. He alone had to resist the urge to recoil. The crowd whispered and giggled among themselves in a sheer sense of embarrassment felt when being complimented  or hit on by the most eligible person in town.  His counselors snickered in an approved way.

 

He on the other hand returned the smile she gave him, and said, “I did not expect you to be so beautiful,...  and mature.” He did his best to make it seem like a compliment. To everyone but the Regent, it sounded like such. His regent was no fool. He knew what the last part of that comment __really__  meant. He felt the Regent eyes boring into his back as he held out his arm to her, the smile still planted on his face, and turned.

He exchanged glances with the Regent, and led her into the main hall of the house. A banquet had been prepared. He knew he would have to continue to suffer through this night, and probably every night for now on in such a way, for the rest of his life, or at least until this woman became infertile.  A part of him felt wicked for thinking such a thing, but he couldn’t help but let that bitterness invade his thoughts. If she didn’t act as if she was so unworthy of her company in his eyes, and so involved with herself, he would venture to attempt to like her.  He knew in the logical part of his mind, he had to at least try to enjoy her physical attributes, else when the time came when he had to bed her and sire heirs, he would never be able to. His counselors thought he was completely ignorant of such things. But he was not, while he had never been with a woman himself, he had seen plenty of the people about him carrying on their love affairs with out realizing he did notice it, and seen on occasion what you did.

 

Most his age would blush at such a thought, but he didn’t. Instead it filled him with dread and the horrible desire to request for the presence of his mother. If she had been here, this ridiculous match would never have taken place. His mother may have argued for a younger sibling from the same family, but never have agreed on this one. Yet she was gone. Gone to the lands in the south, where the Simili people were held at bay by her people.  The white-skinned Simili and their strong ships. Another thing he had to worry about now. They were a people of the sea. They seemed to come from all corners of it. From the White Sea to the Autumn Oceans. However, they seemed to raid the villages and towns in the south the most, The Great Turtle Lakes. His beautiful mother….  The thought of her did bring a genuine smile to lips, albeit a sad one.


End file.
